Holding on for Tonight
by Patd06
Summary: Grimmjow works as a bartender in a nightclub. He's watched a certain orange-haired male live on the wild side for the better part of two years, and now he's decided to help the boy get better, whether he wants help or not. AU, Yaoi, swearing, implied drug use/alcoholism.
1. Chandelier

**Salutations! I know I should be updating other things, but I've been very depressed as of late. Writing this has helped me to cope, and I wanted to share it with you all. I have fifteen chapters planned, but it'll be sporadic, since my main focus is Sugar Daddy.**

**I hope you can find it enjoyable ^_^**

* * *

**Act One: _Chandelier_**

_One, two, three, one, two, three, drink_

_One, two, three, one, two, three, drink_

_One, two, three, one, two, three, drink_

_Throw 'em back 'til I lose count_

_I'm gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier_

_I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist_

_Like it doesn't exist_

_I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry_

_I'm gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier_

_But I'm holding on for dear life, won't look down, won't open my eyes_

_Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight_

_Help me, I'm holding on for dear life; won't look down, won't open my eyes_

_Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight_

_On for tonight_

**Chandelier - Sia**

* * *

I watch him dance with his friends, his hands alternating between waving in the air and caressing the body nearest to him at that moment. His eyes are glassy with intoxication, and half-lidded with lust, probably the effect of some drug. He grabs a built male with white hair and pierced ears and grinds his ass lewdly into the man's pelvis to the tempo of the EDM song that's currently blasting through the speakers of the club.

He's a regular at this club; he comes with a lot of different people, and he's always the life of the party. I've seen him leave with guys and girls before, but he's never left alone. That isn't really something that's unbelievable though, seeing as he's absolutely stunning. He's got longish vibrant orange hair, a lithe, swimmer-like body, and beautiful big brown eyes that emit so many different emotions it's almost too easy to get lost in them. At least they're that way before he starts drinking.

"Hey, bartender! Do me a favor and keep my friend's glass full, yeah?" a blond calls to me. I purse my lips but nod nonetheless. It's my job after all.

I turn around, pulling down a bottle of the vodka that had previously filled the oranget's glass and refill it.

"Thanks soooo much, gorgeous! We'll leave you a nice big tip, 'kay?" the blond says with a wink before he picks up the drink and takes it to his friend, who is now performing a tonsillectomy on his new friend.

I think that's the sixth time I refilled his glass, but I honestly lost count after four. It's like this every time he comes; technically it's none of my business, but for some reason, I just feel like I should protect him. There has to be a reason that he acts this way; something that he's trying to escape from. I'd like to find out what that reason is.

"Hey, Grimm, can you grab this order and take it to table six?" My co-worker Shuuhei asks, and I nod, taking the large order of nachos and stepping from behind the bar. I make my way through the crowd and to table six, which is occupied by none other than Orange and his friends. They're all completely trashed, his large breasted friend nearly tipping over and out of her seat. I repress the urge to roll my eyes and set the tray down in front of them.

"You all enjoy," I say, as if I'm reading from a script. My eyes lock with Orange's hazy brown ones and I feel myself frown. His white-haired friend is quite handsy, and he kisses the orange-haired male's neck. Through all of that though, he never stops looking at me. It's almost as if he's asking for help; can none of his "friends" see that? Probably not, since they're all in the same boat as he is.

Never breaking eye contact, I give a quick nod before I turn to leave. I hope he understands; if no one else will answer his call, then I will.

* * *

"Later!" Shuuhei calls out to me as I lock the door to the club. I wave at him absently as I begin my walk to my apartment. I pull my hood up over my head and put my earbuds in. I can't get that look in Orange's eyes out of my head; I can't figure out what makes him so special to me either. I've been bartending for about three years now, so I've seen my fair share of "party girls", guys too, yet I've never wanted to save someone as bad as I want to save him.

I sigh as I feel a wet droplet drip onto my face. Of course it's raining. How cliché. I round the corner to my house, but before I can get there, movement in the alleyway catches my attention through my peripheral vision. I pull one of my earbuds out and step a little closer to the entrance of the alley.

"N-no, I said I don't wanna," I hear. The voice is definitely male, a smooth tenor that's undeniably attractive. I hear another voice a few seconds later.

"That's not how ya were actin' in the club," the other male says, his voice more gruff than the first. The latter speaks up once more, his speech slurring,

"Said, no y-you fuckin' asshole!" I step into the alley just in time to see the white-haired male from before backhand Orange. The smaller male stumbles but doesn't fall. "You sonuvabitch!"

He swings at the taller male, but he's easily overpowered due to his drunken state. The white-haired man grabs Orange's arm, twisting it and pushing him against the wall. Orange cries out in pain, and I can't just stand by and watch anymore. I have to do something.

"Aye!"

Both sets of eyes turn to me, glossy chocolate brown and angry mustard yellow.

"Who the fuck're you?" The larger one asks, and I smirk.

"The man o' yer dreams," I drawl as I walk closer to them. "But if ya don't getcher hands off'a him, I'ma turn into yer worst nightmare."

"Why dontcha mind yer own business, eh?" White says, tightening his grip on the oranget's arm. The smaller winces and tries to struggle free, but it only earns him a whack to the back of the neck. I conceal my horror as he slumps to the ground. White laughs. "Me an' Ichi were havin' such a good time and ya went an' ruined it."

I shift into a fighter's stance and he laughs louder.

"Oh you tryna go? Aight then, but how's about ya take that hood off so I can see whose face 'm poundin'."

I comply and remove my hood, the rain immediately soaking my hair. The other male's eyes widen in recognition, and I smirk again. I've been told on more than one occasion that I look like I'm nuts when I smirk like this, but it's kinda what I'm going for anyways.

"Like my face, babe?" I taunt, as I start towards him. He frowns and takes a step backwards. There's no doubt in my mind that he knows this isn't going to end well. For him at least. "Whatcha backin' up for? Ya scared?"

"I ain't scared o' shit," he says as he straightens his jacket and glares at me. His feet shuffle forward slowly, contradicting his earlier statement.

All of a sudden he lunges at me, yelling - for what reason, I'll never know. Probably to reassure himself that he's tough. I can feel the whip of air that accompanies the punch he aimed at my face. He missed. The second punch he throws lands on my jaw.

"Not so tough now, are ya?" he asks as I flex my mandibula and straighten up. Cocky bastard. I throw two jabs, each one landing on that arrogant face of his. He tackles me to the ground, throwing misplaced punches at my face, one particularly hard one landing on the ground. I could just _hear_ something crack. I take the opportunity to headbutt him and gain my footing again. His hand is hurt and I can see it, but ask me if I care. It surely doesn't stop me from hitting him in the stomach and knocking him dead in the jaw.

The white haired asshole staggers away, fighting to get his air back. For a moment, he looks like he'll puke, but he manages to straighten up. Pure rage crosses his face.

_Oooh, now he's angry._

He charges at me, fists flailing. I'm too ready. I send one fast straight punch to his unprotected jaw and his head whips back, his body arches backward, all of his momentum snaps back on him like a broken rubber band. He lifts right up off his toes, clearing the ground.

For one long moment his body hangs in the air. Then he lands with a thud that can probably be heard a block away.

I sigh as I look down at the other unconscious figure in the alley. I walk over to him and hoist him up onto my shoulder. This isn't exactly how I planned to meet him, but he's with me now nonetheless. He's gonna have one helluva hangover in the morning.

* * *

I open my eyes slowly and regret it almost immediately. I can't feel anything. At least this time I'm fully dressed. Though I'm wondering where the hell I am. I sit up, looking around slowly so as not to cause myself to vomit all over whomever's floor this is.

It seems to be a loft, with very modern decorations. Whoever lives in this place has expensive taste; rich people are so lucky. The couch that I'm lying on now is ridiculously comfortable. My other senses are starting to work properly little-by-little; I can hear the faint sound of sizzling and I can smell cooking meat and spices too. Surprisingly my stomach doesn't flip-flop as I stand up from the couch and walk slowly towards the direction of the activities.

I reach the kitchen only to be shocked when I spot a head of vibrant blue hair. I've only ever seen one person with hair that color. Is this his house then? What the hell am I doing here? And why isn't he wearing a shirt?! I can't help but watch the muscles of his back as they flex slightly while he works at the stove. Goodness, it's too early in the morning for this.

"Uh, is that for me?" I ask, quietly, pointing at the pair of ibuprofen and tall glass of water that sit on the counter. The tall male jumps a little before he nods. I pick the pills up and throw them back before gulping down half of the water. "Blechhhh, I hate water," I grumble under my breath.

The blue-haired male chuckles before he turns around. As always, I'm completely mesmerized by his eyes. I'll never admit it out loud though. Instead, I focus on the plate he's holding in his hands. Tacos? I raise an eyebrow.

"Isn't it kind of early for Mexican food?" I ask as he sets the plate down in front of me.

"It's three-fifteen in the afternoon. Shut up and eat the damn food. It'll help with the hangover."

His voice caresses my auditory sensors to the point that I may start purring, though I can't help but be a little peeved at his curt tone. Nevertheless, I pick up one of the tacos and take a hearty bite. Before I realize it, I've wolfed down three of them, and the other male grabs my wrist to stop me from picking up a fourth one.

"If you eat too many, you'll puke and then you won't want to eat them anymore." I pout, but drop the taco back on the plate anyways. I actually do feel a lot better. I can't believe Shinji and I haven't tried this before. I'll have to tell him.

"Do you mind telling me how I got here?" I ask. The bartender gives me an even look before he speaks.

"I found you."

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. I suppose he's a man of few words, but I don't really feel comfortable with being in the dark about something like this. I mean, what if something happened to me?

"Where?"

"In the alley near the club."

"How'd I end up unconscious?"

"I don't know."

I feel like he's lying, but there's no way I'll ever know for sure because I certainly don't remember.

"Alright. Well thank you for the food, um -?"

"You're not leaving," he states evenly. I raise an eyebrow as I sit back down in the chair that I'd stood up from.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't have a speech impediment. I said you're not leaving. No exceptions."

"So you're kidnapping me?" I ask incredulously, resting my cheek on my fist and smirking a bit. This is slightly amusing. Only because he's so handsome though, I'm not going to lie. Anyone else would've had their asses handed to them and their tacos taken from them by now. But I'll definitely humor him, if only to get to keep looking at him.

"I'm not kidnapping you; I'm helping you."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"That's irrelevant. You need my help."

Okay, now I'm pissed the hell off.

"Says whom?"

"You."

"But I just said I didn't ask for your help."

"Has anyone told you that you have very expressive eyes?" By now the bartender's face is mere inches from mine, and I can feel my face heating up from being in such close proximity to such a gorgeous man. Ethereal as he may be, he's still pissing me off. I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Big Blue steps back too, turning toward the stove. He lets out a deep breath as he starts to clean up.

"I've watched you for the past two years since you started coming to the club. You dance, and laugh, and anyone with untrained eyes would think you're having the time of your life. But I can see past your façade. You're not happy, in fact you hate yourself for some reason. That's why you go home with random people and drink to the brink of alcohol poisoning, do drugs and God knows what else."

I'm about to curse him the fuck out. How dare he try to tell me how to live my life? He doesn't even know me! Just as I open my mouth to let loose a barrage of swears, he turns back to face me again, and the look on his face stops me.

Truthfully, the only reason I'm angry is because he's right. I hate myself, and if he knew me, if he _really_ knew me, he'd hate me too. He wants to save me, but I need to save him. I need to save him from me. I force my eyes away from his entrancing gaze and sigh.

"Look, man, this is nice and all, but I really don't need any help. I'm fine. So if you could just let me go -"

My speech is cut short when he grabs my arm and pulls me out of the chair I'm sitting in.

"What the hell are you doing, man?" I yell, as he pulls me towards the living room. He produces a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, and he forces me down next to a heating unit. I struggle against him, but he's much stronger than I am, so it's to no avail, as he snaps the handcuffs around my wrist. I tug against the restraints frowning up at my captor. "Just how sick are you?"

"The only person who's sick here is you," he responds. He disappears around a corner and comes back a few minutes later wearing a shirt and a pair of beat-up grey Converse. "I'll be back in a little while."

"You can't just leave me handcuffed to a heater!"

"Can and am," he responds, nonchalantly, as he grabs his keys and wallet and heads out the front door. I yell expletives out after him, even though I know he can't hear me, and tug on the restraints again. After a while, I give up and lean my head against the wall.

A fine mess I've gotten myself into this time.

* * *

**Thank you all for reading. Please let me know what you think :)**

**Until next time,**

**Patd06**


	2. The A Team

**Act Two: _The A Team_**

_They scream_

_The worst things in life come free to us_

_And we're all under the upper hand_

_Go mad for a couple grams_

_And we don't wanna go outside tonight_

_And in a pipe we fly to the Motherland_

_Or sell love to another man_

_It's too cold outside_

_For angels to fly_

**The A Team - Ed Sheeran**

* * *

I walk through the doors of the Shady Oaks Rehabilitation Center and head for the front desk. The receptionist smiles at me and I try to lessen my frown a bit.

"Oh hi there, Grimmjow! So nice to see you," she chirps, cheerily.

"You as well, Nelliel. Is my mother in?" I ask, and Nelliel looks down at a clipboard before she nods.

"She most certainly is. In fact, you caught her between patients, so she should be in her office." I nod, thanking Nelliel before stepping around the desk and walking down the corridor.

My mother, Anaïs Jaegerjaquez, has been a doctor for upwards of twenty years. She started out working in the hospital, but switched over to the rehabilitation center about ten years ago. She's always loved helping people for as long as I can remember, so really she couldn't have a more perfect job.

I knock on her door softly, and I hear her sweet voice grant me permission to come into the office. I walk inside and she smiles brightly, standing up and practically running to hug me.

"Grimmjow, mon fils!"

"Bonjour, Maman," I say, hugging her tightly. She lets go, touching her index finger to the tip of my nose and ruffling my hair.

"How is my beautiful baby boy?" she asks as she returns to her desk chair. I sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"I'm fine, Maman. I'm here because I have a friend who needs help." A look of concern crosses her features as she leans forward, placing her hands on her desk. "It's not me, I swear."

"Oh thank goodness. You had me worried! Who is it, then?"

"Uh. . ." Only now do I realize how impossible it is to explain this situation. I don't even know his name. I suppose I should've asked, but then again, he probably would've given me a fake one.

"Come now, Grimmjow, out with it."

"It's. . .there's this guy who comes in the club a lot. I found him in the alley early this morning when I was heading home. He needs help, Maman."

"But does he want help?"

I raise an eyebrow at that. What did she mean? If he needs help, and I know he does, shouldn't that be enough?

"Darling, you cannot help someone that does not wish to be helped. I've witnessed that quite a few times in the decade that I've worked here. They will only get help when they feel that they need it."

I know she's right, but I can't accept that. I have to help him, or something worse than the incident in the alley is going to happen.

"Isn't there something I can do? Anything?" I ask, nearly pleading. My mom sighs, and runs a hand through her long silver hair. She reaches into a drawer and pulls out a notebook, sliding it across the desk to me.

"Have him write in this everyday for a week. Make sure he actually does too; you don't have to read it, just look and see if there's something written for each day. Then, bring him in to see me." She grabs an appointment card, scribbling a date and time on it. "What's his name, love?" I shrug and she rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. She gives me the card. "Get his name and then call back and Nelliel will get his appointment set up."

I nod and get up, stepping around the desk to hug my mother again.

"Merci, Maman," I say, and she smiles, telling me I'm welcome. I leave her office and wave to Nelliel before I walk out the front door.

* * *

My head lolls to the side, and I jolt awake, looking around as if I'm seeing this apartment for the first time. I tug limply against the handcuff around my wrist and frown. This is so stupid. How could I let myself be captured by someone who wears cotton candy on their head? I need to get to a phone, but first I have to get out of these stupid handcuffs. Why does he even have these? Is he a cop or something?

I chuckle to myself at that dumb thought and twist my wrist around a bit, gauging whether or not I can slide my hand out. Of course I can't, but I suppose it was worth a try. I look around the room to see if there's something within reach that I can use to get the cuffs off. There's a table next to his couch with a few office supplies on it; I'm sure there's a paperclip in the mix somewhere. Stretching my leg out as far as I can, I stick my foot out and hook it around the leg of the table. It takes a bit of effort, but I manage to pull it close enough for me to reach it. There's a small container full of writing utensils, and I dump it out, spreading the contents on the table. I cheer quietly when I find a paperclip. I reach around to my other hand so that I can use both of them to straighten the small piece of metal out. Once I've got it straight, I stick the end of it into the keyhole and bend it, repeating the action until I've made a makeshift key out of the paperclip. I wiggle the thing around in the hole and sigh in relief when the things pop open. I rub my wrist as I stand up, looking around the room for my phone. I see his hoodie on the back of a kitchen chair, and I grab it, pulling my phone out of the pocket. I quickly turn it on ignoring the spazzing from the notifications and dialing Shinji's number.

"Hello? Ichi? Where are ya?" he answers almost immediately. I can tell he's hella hungover, but I can hear the worry in his voice as well.

"You'll never guess what happened, fam," I say, as I put on the jacket.

"Well, I'd prefer if you told me, so I won't have to guess."

"Ha ha. Alright, I'm -"

I stop in my tracks as the front door - which I'd just been reaching for - swings open. The blue-haired bartender stares me down sternly, and I know I'm in trouble.

"Shit."

"What is it, Ichi? Ya can't just stop in the middle of ya sentence like that."

"I'll call you back in a sec, okay?"

I cut Shinji off and slide my phone into my pocket, crossing my arms over my chest and matching my captor's gaze.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks, grumpily, and I frown.

"I was just leaving," I respond.

"No you weren't."

"You can't make me stay here. That's kidnapping, which is a crime."

"You don't need to be around those _friends_ of yours. They're only enabling you."

"Who are you to tell me what I need? Some fucking rich son of a bitch looking to clean me up and make me your new trophy huh?" He frowns at this but I keep going. "I'm already sick to death of this shit, man. Just get out of my way. I don't want your help!" I yell. Cotton candy head steps toward me, and I step back. He closes the door and leans against it. That's when I realize that he's holding something. A book? Well, it doesn't matter since I'm not staying here.

"This is the beginning of your treatment," he states, as if I didn't just yell at him. He holds up the notebook. "You have to write something in here every day for a week."

"Oh hell no," I quip, shaking my head. "C'mon, get outta my way."

"I won't read what you write, but you have to write something every day." Is he fucking ignoring me?

"Look, I'm not writing in some diary like a fucking teenage girl. I'm a grown ass man."

"After a week, I'll take it to the doctor and she'll set up an official appointment for you."

"Stop fucking ignoring me, you asshole! You don't know anything about me!" I exclaim. Blue looks at me then, seemingly surprised by my outburst. "I don't know who you think you are, but I am so serious right now. Either you get out of my way, or I will try my best to kick your ass. I don't want your help, I don't need your help, and I didn't ask for your help. I want to be left alone. Do you understand me? _Leave me alone_."

The last part of my statement comes out as a growl, and I see something in my captor's eyes that makes me sick to my stomach. Pity. He purses his lips before he steps to the side allowing me to pass. I open the door quickly and make my way down the hall. I hear him say something faintly but I can't make out what it is. It doesn't matter though. I'm getting out of here while I've got the chance.

I avoid the elevator, opting to take the stairs instead. I pull my phone out and dial Shinji's number.

"Where are you, Ichi?" he asks.

"I don't know, Shin. I think I'm still near the club," I respond, turning a corner on a familiar street.

"I'm in Jacksonville." I gasp, almost dropping my phone as I halt in my tracks. That's more than a hundred miles away.

"Shin, what are you doing there?"

"I. . .I don't remember how we got here, but Ran is here with me. Do you still have your key to my apartment?" I pat my pockets and sigh in defeat.

"No, I think I left them at. . ." Shit.

"Where were you?" Shin asks. I don't want to tell him.

"I'm still in Raleigh. Look, I'm going to see if I can get a bus or something back to my place. I have a spare key there. You and Ran try to get back safely, alright?"

"Yeah, her brother's on his way to get us. We'll see you soon."

I hang up the phone and slump down to the ground, suddenly weighed down by how much shit I'm in. When did my life become this? Waking up a mess, not knowing where I am or who I've been with, doing nothing but getting high, and higher to avoid the lows. It shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't be like this, but I am. My mom wouldn't like this. I guess it's a good thing she isn't here to see it.

I lean my head back against the dirty wall, looking up at the sky. I know I need help, but I don't know if I'm ready yet. I'm not ready to face all my demons. I guess I'm scared. I've been running from my past for so long, that I don't even know if I have the ability to face it anymore. The things I've done; the people I've hurt, the damage just doesn't seem reparable. I don't think I could possibly fix anything about my life at this point. I'm so messed up and I don't have anyone to blame but myself.

I feel bad about yelling at that guy. His intentions were good, no matter how messed up his methods were. I shouldn't drag him into my bullshit though. He doesn't need me in his life. No one does.

* * *

**Here is an update on this for you all. I'll admit, I'm having a hard time with this, since I haven't written much like it before; however, that doesn't mean I'm not having fun. I like this story a lot, and I'm looking forward to writing more of it. Thank you to all who are reading and reviewing. I'm glad I could entertain you.**

**Until next time,**

**Patd06**


End file.
